Seductive Sedition (Turn Series)
by Avalon Medieval
Summary: Ben and Caleb intend to use Major Hewlett's sassy granddaughter in a hostage exchange, but things do not go as planned...A smutty story for naughty Turn fans :) Ben Tallmadge/OFC Smut, Romance, Sexual Content.
1. Chapter 1

First off, Ben will waver in and out of OOC brought on by desperation, intoxication, and torment. Ben is not a gentleman in this story! This is basically romance and smut...Read tags for other warnings as my writing is dark and gritty. There is also a graphic rape scene, so do not pretend like you have not be warned and are offended.

I also bend history to fit my story!

Like the majority of my fanfic, the inspiration for this fanfic was drawn from a dream.

Chapter 1: Hostages

**Major Hewlett has been wounded and is recovering in New York, leaving Captain Simcoe in charge of Setauket. With threat of siege, Simcoe has ordered a retreat taking hostages.**

"I say we hang them up just like they did our brethren!" Caleb hissed, glaring out the open door of the Strong Tavern at the row of hung Setauket Citizens swaying with the tide of the frosty wind.

"No! Do not abase yourself to their level of brutality. Prove that you are men of honor!" Anna pleaded from the cluster of cowering townspeople. She had grew up with Ben and Caleb, and she knew their hearts. If they commit such atrocities, the act would embed itself in their souls, only to wound and fester.

"Bah! You cannot speak reason to a rebel! They bear no honor!" Ensign insulted.

Roaring, Caleb hurled the butt of his musket across Ensign's head. The young British soldier crumpled to the floor, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Cinnamon threw herself between Ensign and Caleb. "Cease, you animal!" her accent British and sassy.

Ben glared at the reckless, impulsive beauty. How dare she label his men feral when it was her countrymen who had executed men without a just trial. "Sit down, miss!"

Folding her arms, she met his glare, flaunting insolence. "I will not!"

Ensign groaned painfully as he struggled to lift his head. "Miss. Hewlett, please."

Ben cocked his head, noting the concern in the soldier's tone without understanding his guttural words.

One of the other British soldiers grazed Ensign with his boot, shushing him as if he had just allowed a bottled secret to air.

"What did you call her?" Caleb snapped.

When Ensign did not reply, Caleb raised his musket once more. This time Cinnamon slapped it away.

Ben stepped forth, catching her wrist and pulling her from the protection of the captured British soldiers. When the men protested, Ben's Patriots aimed their weapons.

"Ben, stop this!" Anna shrieked. She had never seen Ben behave anything but a gentleman in the presence of ladies.

"How dare you manhandle me! Release me this instant!" Cinnamon stomp her foot in huff, pouting like a spoiled brat.

"What is your name, girl?" Ben asked, tightening his grip upon her wrist.

"I am Cinnamon Hewlett and I am the proud granddaughter of Major Hewlett!"

Caleb smiled. "Ben, are you thinking what I am thinking?"

Emotionless, Ben nodded, shoving Cinnamon into Caleb's snare. "I am way ahead of you, friend."

"You can not take her!" Ensign shouted, only to greet a kick in the belly.

"Ben, no! This is not you!" Anna tried to step forward, but was halted by her husband.

"Ben, Caleb, do not do this! This is wrong!" Abe joined Anna's protest. His wife glowering with suspicion.

Ben jerked Abe from his wife's clutches, shoving him out the door and out of hearing range. "Simcoe has my father and Caleb's uncle. He is holding them only to kill them before our eyes, or he would have executed them along with the others. This girl is our only hope."

"What will your superiors think of you imprisoning a female? Have you thought about this ludicrous plan for more than five minutes?"

"I will charge her as a spy. Being a female did stop the Redcoats from imprisoning Agent 355!" In a less smug tone, Ben continued, "I have gave my all for this cause. I have bled for this war. My brother died for this war. My father is all I have left. He is not a sacrifice that I am willing to render, regardless of the stain it will place upon my reputation."

Abe shook his head and placed his arms around Ben's shoulders in brotherly bonding. "Simcoe is twisted. How can you be so sure that he will even consider the trade?"

"He will. He will have to."

Abe's voice intensified, "you are positive he will agree?"

Their eyes locked. Abe was right. Ben was not confident, but he was not about to admit that. "Farewell for now, Mr. Culper," Ben cast over his shoulder, withdrawing to the docked boats with the rest of his soldiers. Caleb had already tied a fussy Cinnamon and was in the process of threatening to gag her if she did not cease her arrant insults.

Notes:

Agent 355 was a female spy in the Culper Ring under Benjamin Tallmadge. She was imprisoned on the Jersey ship.


	2. Chapter 2

"Where are you taking me?"

Ben ignored Cinnamon, continuing to row with the flow of his men.

"I said where are you taking me?" Cinnamon raised her voice, kicking Ben in the back as she did.

Ben swirled around, narrowing his eyes at Cinnamon. "Behave or I swear I will toss you overboard with your hands tied!" He had never laid a hand on the opposite sex, but she did not know that. She thought him a barbarian, he might as well play the role.

"You will not cast me out. You need me, otherwise you would have left me in Setauket. Now where are we going?"

Ben turned his back on her and just as she raised her foot to render another blow, Caleb answered her insistent question from behind, "to New London County, where we will arrange an exchange for your release."

"An exchange? A trade for who?"

"That is none of your affair! Now be silent and act like a lady!" Ben hissed over his shoulder. He had never seen any woman misbehave so boldly. He pitied the man who would one day take this willful woman to his side.

She kicked him hard this time. "I am a proper British lady! You are just a backwoods hick!"

On impact, Ben dropped his oar. He bit his lip to keep from groaning out loud. He swirled, hiding the fact that she had hurt him, and grabbed her by the chin. Defiantly, she jerked from his grip and spat, "do not touch me!"

The young major snared her chin tighter this time and warned in a low threatening voice. "If you kick me again, I will punish you severely."

Her cat-shaped eyes grew venomously as she hissed, "you are a brute who preys on innocent women!"

Ben chuckled smugly, caressing the hollow of her cheek with his index finger before releasing her. Caleb, amused by the scene, joined in with mocking laughter. Cinnamon grew silent, puckering her pouty lips in a pout, having no idea what the two found so amusing.

An hour later, the platoon docked in a mist of smoke. The land unearthly silent foretelling something sinister had come to pass.

Ben and Caleb, weapons in hand, slithered through the forest with Cinnamon sandwiched between them.

"Dear God!" Jeffrey, a lanky redhead, whispered as if in a trance. Before them lay a trail of mutilated bodies of an elder man and what seemed to be the remains of two young men. All that remained of their farmhouse and barn was a smoldering pile of rubble. A young dragoon fell to his feet, calling the dead farmer his father.

"The bloody Brits!" Caleb bellowed, twisting his jaw in anger. He had seen more than his share of charred homes these days.

"No!" Cinnamon said, shaking her head with disbelief. "No, you are wrong! My people did not do this! They would never commit such a heinous crime on civilians."

Ben turned on her, reflecting a rage gleaming glare. He took a step toward her, generating her to back up as if suddenly afraid of him. "This is the work of Robert Rogers, a murderous mercenary hired by the crown! He has a list of my men's families and is slaughtering them one by one!"

Cornered to an oak, Cinnamon's denial melted, her pretty eyes blooming with tears. Ben's face softened. He gently reached for her wrists and untied them. She rubbed them while holding his gaze. Through all the horror, Ben managed to find beauty and it lay in Cinnamon's innocent reflection. It was like a ray of sunshine creating a peephole through a midst of dark clouds.

"Shall we bury them, sir?" Jeffery asked, breaking Cinnamon's momentary spell over Ben.

"What? Yes...yes, lay them to rest," Ben ordered, tearing his gaze from the petite enchantress. Sensations birthed from his loins rippled through to the tip of his manhood. He was in the middle of a bloodbath and his thoughts were on a woman; a British one at that. He shook his head. He had been deprived of sex too long.

"Major!" Cinnamon called to him as he turned. "Is it possible these men were armed and threatened Rogers?"

"What you mean is it possible these Patriots resisted tyranny and defended what was theirs? Look around you, woman! You are not in England anymore! These people have bled for this land. They have endured hell and more to farm this country and do you think they should just step aside and allow some crown across the seas its ownership?"

Cinnamon cast her eyes down. "To say so is sedition and the punishment for treason is death!"

"So is the punishment for being a spy!"

At that her fiery nature reared. She captured his arm with anger spilling from her reflection. "I am not a spy and your mutinous country has no authority to charge me so!"

Ben slapped her hands away. "Do you want me to bound your hands again?"

Stomping her foot, "NO!"

He seized both of her wrists and lowered them to her side. "Then keep them to yourself or you will see first hand the authority I bear and what the punishment is for attacking a Continental Officer."

Ben abandoned their dispute to help his dragoons bury the dead. With tears streaming down her face, a palm over her heart, she watched the anguished solider weep over his father's grave.

Notes:

New London County housed Connecticut's Naval War Office.


	3. Chapter 3

Several desolated farms later, the platoon rested on a hillside overlooking a gentle river. Some of the men refreshed in the icy water while others broke off into small groups talking. Cinnamon drew herself dangerously close to Ben, but yet naively so.

"The Scotsman really did this?" she asked, her warm breath licking Ben's neck.

He shivered unintentionally, relishing the erotic delight upon his neglected flesh. "Yes. He is a soulless man."

"I believe you. I've met him and within him, reflects a cold, black heart. There are terrible rumors whispered about his past during the French and Indian War. But my grandfather is a gentleman. He would never…"

"The orders did not hail from your grandfather. Rogers was used so that English Militant would not be deemed responsible."

"Ben…" she called his name, leaning intimately close. Her voice ethereal, like that of a sighing angel. He closed his eyes, vividly mustering the strength not to caress her. "Yes, Cinnamon?"

"The exchange you mean to negotiate. It is someone close to you? Is it for your wife?"

No longer able to resist, as if his body was merely responding to her summon, he drew an inch closer, so now her breasts pressed against his chest. Looming over her, he replied, "my father and Caleb's uncle. I am not married."

She made no move to cower from him, instead she branded her eyes with his and continued with interrogation. "There is something between you and Simcoe?"

So close, he could hear her heart pounding, feel the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathe. A mental flash of him shoving her dress up and thrusting himself between her legs rippled. Forcing the desire from his head, he replied, his tone a mere whisper, "I slaughtered Roger's force. I captured and tortured Simcoe. My only brother died as a result of my actions and now perhaps my father."

"You have made enemies of two of the most fierce. They will not stop until they…"

He cut her off, "until I kill them."

Her eyes widened, realization setting in. This man was not a gentleman raised in London. He was a grizzled warrior. He endured horrors unimaginable to her. The blood on his hands was thick and dense. Suddenly realizing how intimately close they were, danger dawning on her, she pulled away.

The gesture seemed to hurt him. She had read his pain before he hardened his eyes on purpose to shield human emotion from her, he stood and ordered his men to their feet and marched away, without helping her stand.

Caleb came up behind her and tugged her up. "Be careful, miss. Ben is a good man, but war makes even good men do things they regret."

They walked for hours until reaching a post where they would rest for the night. Tomorrow they would obtain horses and negotiate a prisoner exchange. Cinnamon sat cross-legged on a bed of moss, watching several dragoons construct Ben's tent. Jeffrey approached, ferrying a bowl of stew.

"It is not what you are used to, but it will ease hunger pangs," he offered shyly.

She accepted the bowl with a smile. "Thank you." Cocking one eye, she sniffed its steam. "What is it?"

"Wild onions and rabbit."

"Oh..." Having no spoon, she sipped it.

Jeffrey nodded and bid her goodnight.

"Thank you again for your hospitality, Jeffery," she called as the young man joined his friends by the campfire.

Caleb and Ben approached, wearing amused smirks.

"What?" she snapped, her smile fading as soon as she set eyes upon them.

"Just startled to find you bear some manners," Caleb joked, handing her a cup of steaming coffee.

"I have an array of manners in store for civilized people. And I do not drink coffee. I am British. I drink tea."

"Well you are in America and here your tea floats in Boston's harbor," Ben gloated, sitting down in front of her.

The wind begin to howl, drawing their attention to the approaching night. Cinnamon shivered and wrapped her arms around her shoulders.

"Why dont you go sit by the fire?" Caleb asked her.

She shook her head, casting her eyes at the dragoons as if they bore the plague.

Chuckling with sarcastic humor, Ben peeled off his Continental coat and wrapped it around her. "Because she has too much pride to join a herd of rebels."

Caleb nodded his head and broke toward the fire. "I am going to eat."

"Where am I to sleep, Ben?"

He glanced at her like she should know. "Well with me of course."

Eyes wild, she jumped to her feet, shaking her head. "I cannot! I will not! I will be ruined!"

"Relax!" He captured her boot and tugged her back down beside him. "I jest. You will sleep in my tent alone. You British girls do not know how to laugh at a joke."

She crossed her arms, pouting her lips. "It was not funny." She unbound her hair, tossing it in the night breeze, the act causing her breasts to jiggle. Ben watched, lapping up every second of her game.

After a few minutes of stargazing, a pack of coyotes began to sob in the distance. Cinnamon sucked in a startled breath and scooted overly close to Ben.

"Now you look to me for protection?" he teased in a smug tone.

Changing the subject, she asked, "Major, if Captain Simcoe denies the exchange, will you hand me over to your superiors and see me imprisoned for a crime I did not commit?"

"Are you fearful?"

"Yes…" She batted her coy eyes, her dark hair capturing the moonbeams, illuminating her silk. She was mesmerizing.

"I thought you were a little hell-cat?" He nudged her mischievously.

"Do not tease me so!"

"Tease you? You have been taunting me all day, warming my flesh with your body, casting me coy glances.."

She raised her hand to slap his face, but he captured it in mid-swing. "I warned you what would happen if you tried to strike me again!"

"You have insulted me! Any lady would react as so!" She tried to free her hand from his grasp.

Smirking, Ben twisted it behind her back and buried his chest into her bosom, intimidatingly. "You are not a lady. You are a spoiled childish brat."

"You are hurting me!" she whimpered, utilizing the tone a little girl would use.

Using one hand to pin her wrist behind her back, he used the other to tilt her chin to his face. "I am not hurting you and you know it. I have restrained my strength with every touch." She tried to glance away. He turned her gaze back to him with tender force. "And I will not see you imprisoned even if Simcoe refuses my request."

He released her with sudden retreat. She watched him stroll to dine with his friends, his departure leaving her hollow and aching.

Sighing, she drew to her feet and ducked inside his tent. She reclined on his spread and pulled his blanket over her. She rolled on her side and snuggled to his coat, inhaling his scent deep in her lungs, his masculine fragrance arousing her. Closing her eyes, she mentally conjured Ben's sultry face. She felt her core sear liquidity, imagining him collecting her in his arms and kissing her. Although his touch had always been gentle, his hands were rough. Her wrist still tingled from the warmth of his entrapment. She wondered if he would be as gentle beyond touching. She pondered his reaction if he were to duck inside his tent and find her draped over his coat, nipples erect and her cunt drenching with desire for him. The thought of him mauling into her virginal body and taking her primitively generated an involuntary moan.

She suddenly sat up, mind whirling. This was her one chance. Her one shot at living before being bonded for the rest of her dull life. It was reckless, impulsive, and oh so tempting. All she had to do was call him to her and she knew he would fulfill her fantasy without haste. She had seen the lust in his eyes. He might pretend he abhorred the British, but given the chance, he'd fuck her raw. All she had to do was open the tent and summon him, and he would give her a tameless memory to quell the wild in her soul for the long years to come, but instead she plunged back down, hiked her leg and fondled herself, pretending it was him.


	4. Chapter 4

Emerging from the tent, Cinnamon veiled her eyes from the dawn sun until they adjusted to its brightness. Morning birds fluttered about, singing merrily, slicing through still air carefree. She smiled at them, envying their freedom.

She glanced down to find Caleb smiling up at her, extending a mug of coffee. This time she accepted and squatted beside him.

"I know ladies are delicate and while I was unable to obtain sugar, I managed to find some milk from a farmer south of here."

She sipped the creamy brew. "Thank you, Caleb. You may pretend not to be a gentleman, but your endearing actions prove otherwise."

"I ain't no gentleman, miss." He grinned shyly.

"Where is Ben?"

"He has ridden to arrange a courier to deal with Simcoe and his superior. He will return shortly. The exchange will take place today."

"Tell me more about Ben, please. He intrigues me."

"Well, lets see. Ben and I grew up together. We are like brothers. He went off to Yale while I took to Greenland and joined a whaleboat crew. He is a good man, miss. He might not seem like it now, but he is. Ben, like all of us, has endured hell and lived through it."

"This war is hard on everybody."

"Yes, miss, it is, but forgive me for saying so, you ladies are not on the battlefield. You do not witness firsthand your friends being torn apart by bullets, watching them bleed to death before your eyes, hearing their final words. We have seen it all. Old men, boys, and it is all the same. You never know which breath will be your last."

"I am sorry." Cinnamon lowered her lids. She had never really thought about the horrors of war.

"You fancy Ben, don't you?"

She shot up. "No...Do not be absurd. I am just curious to know the enemy."

"He is not your enemy and neither am I."

Cinnamon placed her palm over Caleb's hand. "I know that."

"Caleb, we have to meet Simcoe after dusk!" Ben called, storming up the hillside.

Caleb drew to his feet. "Why so late?"

"Those are his terms. Just us three. No one else. Same goes for him."

"Ben, that is dangerous," Caleb warned.

"I am leery too, my friend, but what choice do we have?"

"I will go and prepare the men just in case…."

"You do that, Caleb." Ben winked.

Cinnamon watched Caleb until he was out of hearing range and then said, "you will soon be free of me, Major."

"Isn't that what you want?" Ben asked suddenly playful.

"Is that what you want?" She was serious.

"Cinnamon…" Ben's teasing demeanor sombered. He was about to collect her hand when Jeffrey interrupted.

"Sir, our scouts have returned."

Ben nodded. "I will follow." To Cinnamon, he whispered, "it is not what I want." He turned and abandoned her, the weight of the war bearing down on his young shoulders.

Cinnamon watched him stroll away with feline-like grace. He was magnificent, absolutely the perfect portrait of a virile warrior. She closed her eyes and sighed, dread plaguing her heart. Soon her hands would be tied and she would be once again thrust into life's play, a puppet living by another's leave.


	5. Chapter 5

Under the veil of the full moon, Ben stood behind a tree, every muscle in his body bulging, his fingers tense and wrapped securely around Cinnamon's upper arm. With every passing moment, she could feel his breathing intensify. He stared into the forest line, squinting, trying to spot the gleam of a redcoat. She followed his gaze; nothing, only blackness oozing between branches.

She peered back up at him. Tiny bubbles of perspiration beaded his forehead despite the icy night breeze. The concern for his father ate at her heart. She wanted to take him in her arms and kiss the apprehension away. Instead, she collected his hand into hers and held it.

His serious expression melted in a smile. For a brief moment, he tore his gaze from the forest and held hers. Why now? His mind roared. Why not back in camp? Why now when he had to give her up?

Pine needles crackling echoed from the treeline. Cinnamon forgotten, Ben drew his gun and waited for Simcoe.

Silhouettes emerged from the engulfing darkness, like phantoms lurking in the night. As they made their way from the shield of the forest, the moon fell upon them, blushing their skin, revealing their identities.

Simcoe approached, beaming a malicious smirk with two hostages on each side. Even from a distance, Ben and Caleb could read the torture their elderly relatives had endured. Both wore bruises and wounds that would scar them for the rest of their lives.

"Send the girl out and I shall free these traders."

Cinnamon winced, suffering as Ben dug his fingers protectively into her flesh. He did not want to give her up. It was clear as the moon was bright. "No deal! We send them forth at the same time!" Ben commanded, his voice stern and calm, surprising Cinnamon at how well he retained his true emotions.

"Oh you rebels are so hard to please. Alright, deal!" Simcoe baited as though playing a juvenile game. He shoved his hostages forward. "Walk!" It was more like limp. The two men eased forward, limping and grunting from injury.

"Go ahead," Caleb whispered, touching Cinnamon in a fond gesture that meant goodbye.

She stared into Ben's eyes, hers pleading, his longing. Instead of releasing her arm, he gripped tighter, so tight that she would bear his mark for days to come.

"Ben, let her go." Caleb hissed, breaking the enchantment.

Ben swallowed hard, mustering the strength to release her. She held his gaze a second more, just long enough for him to see them bloom with tears before she turned and slowly stepped forward.

As the hostage exchange took place, Simcoe taunted, "you know I thought at first, two for one...I am getting the bad side of the bargain...But then I realized that Reverend Tallmadge and Crippled Brewster together still did not equal the fair Miss. Hewlett, so actually you are gaining the short end of the stick."

By now the hostages were only a few feet from being exchanged. So close so, Simcoe's eyes locked with Cinnamon's glare. He opened his arms. "Come home, dear."

A twig snapped. She stopped. Simcoe lunged forward. "Ben!" she shrieked just as snipers from the trees opened fire.

"Uncle!" Caleb wailed, throwing his body on the old man, but he was too late, his back was already filled with gaping holes. Eyes bulging, gurgling a fountain of blood, he crumpled.

Reverend Tallmadge tried to run into his son's arms, but his wounded legs from being beaten by Simcoe faltered. Ben caught him with open arms just as he fell. "I have you father."

"Son, I…"

"NO!" Ben lamented as his father's skull exploded, splattering his face with blood and brains.

"Cinnamon!" Simcoe shot forward, sprinting to catch Cinnamon as she raced back to Ben. He could hear his men reloading behind him. He seized her from behind and flung her to the ground so that he could shoot Ben before his men had the chance.

Click. Aim. Before the shot hailed, bullets showered the trees, slaying Simcoe's snipers. Simcoe fired, missing Ben. A bullet whizzed by his nose. He shrieked and fled back into the dark forest.

Cinnamon laid on her belly until the Continentals passed.

"Seize her! Take her back to camp!" Ben shouted to Jeffery.

"Ben!" she sobbed, wounded that she was once again being treated as a prisoner. She wanted to go to him. Be with him. Help him.

"Come on, miss." Jeffrey tugged her behind him. She stumbled behind him, peering back at Ben as he and Caleb mourned over their slain kin.


	6. Chapter 6

"Major!"

"Did you kill the bastard?" Ben asked, glancing up from beside his father's freshly dug grave.

"No, sir, but…"

"Unless you bear news of Simcoe's death, cease your words for nothing else matters."

The youthful private sunk to his knees before Ben and clasped his shoulders. "Sir, you have to come now. It is your sister-in-law."

Ben paled, his eyes flashed with terror. "Prudence is in Groton. She…" His words diminished. He started to shake. This was a nightmare. It was not real.

Caleb helped Ben to his feet. It was real. It was a living nightmare. "We will do this together."

They found her in the woods lifeless, her eyes gaping wide and mouth open with contortion. Death lived in those pained eyes. Her face was tilted toward the forest in search of help that never came. Both of her shoulders pierced with stakes, binding her to the cold ground. Her legs spread eagle, bloody and bound. Dried semen clung to her thighs smeared with crusty blood. Her nipples had been chewed off. Already the ants mauled into the fresh juices of her wounds.

Ben stared down at her tear-streaked cheeks, bile rising in his throat, wondering just how many of Redcoats had fucked her before breaking her neck. She had been his brother's wife. She was in Ben's care since his death. She had suffered an immoral murder because of him.

Ben fell to his knees, bellowing with rage and pain. Caleb sunk beside his brother in arms and both men wept for all that they had lost. Tonight they would mourn, tomorrow they would seek revenge. Simcoe would pay. He and everyone around him.


	7. Chapter 7

Caleb and Ben spent the night with the dead and all of the next day hunting Simcoe. As night yawned, darkening their view, they decided to call it a day.

Upon return to camp, Ben seized a bottle of potent whiskey and disappeared in the dark veiled forest to soothe his pain. The men, who had suffered similar losses, followed their major's lead and began drowning in their own sorrows. Caleb squatted outside Cinnamon's tent, sipping, intent to remain sober.

"Caleb?"

"You need to stay inside, ma'am."

She glanced at the drunkards, their heavy-lidded eyes casting lewd glazes in her direction. She was British and these men had suffered because of her countrymen. "I will, but first tell me what has happened."

Careful with his words so not to offend her, Caleb explained how they found Ben's sister-in-law.

"Oh, dear God, poor Ben...Caleb, I am so sorry about your uncle. I am sorry for everything that you and Ben, and all of these men, have suffered and lost. The people back home, they do not witness this. They do not understand. If they did, they would rebel against the brutal tyranny here."

The messenger entered camp with Ben staggering after him.

"Go to bed, Miss. Brewster."

She obeyed.

"What message does Major Hewlett send?" Caleb asked.

"He promises Simcoe will be tried accordingly and in return, he demands the release of his granddaughter."

"Simcoe's men will falsely testify. Simcoe will be back in uniform in a day's time." Ben started to sulk away.

The messenger continued, "he could not believe Simcoe would risk the girl's life."

"Why would Simcoe care about her?" Caleb asked, intrigued.

"Do you not know who she is?"

Caleb nodded. "She is Cinnamon Hewlett, Major's Hewlett's granddaughter."

"You do not know! She is more than that. She is also Captain Simcoe's fiancee!"

With that, Ben froze. He swirled, his alcohol-clouded eyes deadly. "What did you say?"

"Miss. Hewlett is to wed Simcoe in the spring."

Caleb leaped in front of Cinnamon's tent, placing his palms to Ben's chest. "Do not do this! You are allowing vengeance and rage to guide your actions!"

Ben slung his childhood friend to the ground and ducked inside the tent.

Cinnamon was sitting on the covers, knees tucked to her chest when he stormed in. One look in his furor and she knew he knew and she knew exactly what he demanded. She flung herself back, uncoiling her legs at the same time he toppled her. She was not going to resist him. He deserved this. And she wanted him. She wanted him to be her first. It was a way of breaking Simcoe's claim on her innocence.

"Take this off! I want you naked!" he demanded, ripping at her dress.

Knowing to obey quickly, she tugged her dress over her head and tossed it to where he shed his tunic. With one quick motion, he freed himself from his trousers and lowered himself between her legs.

Feeling his mass erect and threatening against her thighs, she whimpered, not sure he could fit inside her. Ben replied by groping a fistful of her breast, twisting painfully at her nipple. "Not a word..I am going to fuck you and I am going to fuck you hard," he slithered in a low tone between gritted teeth.

She could smell the whiskey on his breath, feel it in his touch. He was drunk, angry, desperate. He was going to hurt her, punish her for the actions of her intended. Closing her eyes, she turned her head, toes curling in anticipation for what would come. He seized her throat, gripping with barbarous strength. "Open your eyes! Look upon me while I brand you. You will remember this night each and every time you spread your legs for Simcoe."

Holding her breath in apprehesion, she opened her lids. Their eyes locked. Her gaze fearful, his a mixture of drunk lust and punishing passion. But still she did not resist. She wanted him despite the lack of tenderness.

Still gripping her throat, he lowered his mouth to her lips, his warm breath licking her flesh as he whispered in a sensual tone. "I am going to return you to your fiancé in the morning and when I do you will be drenched, dripping wet with my seed."

Mind whirling with alcohol and a mixture of pain, rage, and revenge as his guide, he drew his hips back, impaling her cervix with one conquering thrust. Her virginal sheath lacerated, she lamented painfully. Outside the tent, Caleb placed his hand to his head, her agonized wail tearing at his heart. Clenching his strong fingers deeper around her throat, Ben hushed her. "Shh…You are going to take every virile inch of me."

Not giving her petite intimate tunnel time to adjust to his size, Ben withdrew to her rim, only to slam back into her again and again, relentlessly, desperately as if clinging to life with each thrust. Instinctively, she threw her palms against his chest, trying to pull him from the realm of dominating ecstasy. With one hand, he pinned her wrists above her head and with the other, he covered her mouth as he viciously thrust himself repeatedly to the hilt.

"Simcoe's whore…. deceitful slut…." The thought of Simcoe touching her enraged him further. "How many times has he touched you? Kiss you?"

"Never! I swear, NEVER!"

Powerless and immobilized, she lay beneath his virile body, suffering passion meant to conquer and prevail. Struggling to breathe, she thrashed her head, moaning, her small body writhing against his muscular one. Her feminine canal fought him, clamping down on him like a vise. The action inflaming him more.

"Do you want him? Do you want to feel his cock inside you?"

"NO!" she yelped, holding her legs wide as he pounded her with breathtaking force.

Ben seized her mouth in a brutal grip, forcing her gaze to his eyes. "Do you want me to stop?"

Shaking her head, whining, whimpering, pleading. "No."

He fell upon her mouth like prey, mauling into her, muttering incoherent delights, some sensual, some vulgar. He fucked her deep and hard to a constant, unrelenting pace until his body rippled with climax. Three deep-rooted thrusts later, he extravasated, filling her womb with his creamy nectar birthed from rage.

His explosion surged against her wounded intimate walls, waxing and hot. She whimpered beneath his chest dripping of sweat as he slowly, sensually pumped every searing drop of himself into her.

Finally, he withdrew and dropped to her side, his breathing harsh and steady.

After a few minutes, his breathing tranquilized. He reclined with his eyes closed, his mind for the first time in months lulled, until a faint whimper broke the spell. He glanced over at Cinnamon's wrecked body. She had curled into a fetal position, clutching her abdomen. A mixture of semen and blood oozing down her thighs. Helpless Prudence flickered in his memory. FUCK, his mind whirled, he was no better than Simcoe.

Collecting her into his arms, he cooed to her as one would trying to comfort an infant. "Cinnamon…" he muttered her name, wiping strands of bedraggled hair behind her ears with a heavy heart. "I am sorry…" He kissed her forehead.

"Do not be sorry, Ben." She whispered, her voice strong and durable. This was revenge against her family and Simcoe. Ben had branded her and that was something her family could not rip from her.

"Why did you never tell me?" his voiced a slur.

"Because I was ashamed, embarrassed of him."

She allowed him to hold her, making the mistake of wrapping her arms around his back. Her breasts arched forward, snuggling his sinewy chest. Within minutes, she felt him harden.

"You are beautiful...intoxicating." He mesmerized his lips against her throat.

She could smell the alcohol seeping through the pores of his body. She knew he was intensely drunk and completely out of his mind. She knew the atrocities men could commit while indulging. She had witnessed her father many times as a child scoop her mother up and carry her off to drunk fuck all night.

Lust overcoming the spinning of his head, Ben sunk, capturing her mouth with his own, kissing her with desperation. She opened her mouth allowing him to tongue fuck her. He thrust his tongue in and out of mouth, rising and flicking the tip of his tongue to hers.

Feeling her nipples grow erect, he trailed down her neck and to her breasts, licking, kissing, sucking, spending amble time on each breast, forcing her to moan with pleasure. "Spread your legs for me, lamb."

Bewitched, she obeyed. He slipped his finger to her clit, manipulating her vigorously, generating her to sob with bliss.

"Ben!" she purred lustfully, her entire body tensing as she ruptured.

Cock enraged and throbbing from watching her climax, he jacked her legs apart and lowered himself between them. "Can you take me again?"

"Yes...I think so..." she murmured between sips of his tongue. She hurt like hell, but there was no way she could deny him.

"Tell me you want me."

Honesty brewing in the pit of stomach, "I want you, Ben Tallmadge. I want you more than anything."

This time he penetrated her tenderly, her tunnel still moist with his seed, fucking her with only half his length, erotically leisurely and steady.

The sound of sex evident, Caleb clenched his fists, cursing Ben mentally. He was going to wound that girl. Cinnamon was too petite to endure much more of Ben's lecherous wrath. He paced back and forth, debating on whether or not to bust in and drag him off of her. Some time before dawn their intimate melody lulled, but Caleb had long drifted deep into slumber.


	8. Chapter 8

"He was not my choice. My grandfather betrothed me to Simcoe."

Ben woke to the sound of Cinnamon's anguished voice. She stared down at him with swollen eyes and an exhausted expression. Dark circles plagued her lids. Faint bruises encircled her delicate wrists.

"Simcoe's soul is black. Your's is not, Ben Tallmadge. Do not allow him to darken yours anymore than he already has."

He reached up and pushed her locks to the side of her neck, his stomach churning at the aftermath of lust. He had marked her from her throat to her breasts. Shame-washed, he apologized. "I allowed my anger to feast revenge upon you through my drunken rage. I do not ask for your forgiveness nor do I deserve it, but know that both my heart and soul bleeds for my actions last night."

"Ben, get her dressed! General Scott just entered camp." Caleb stuck his head in, his eyes softening at the sight of Cinnamon's appearance. She felt as sore as she looked.

"I have nothing left but revenge. I am going to kill Simcoe and Rogers. He will make you a wife merely to make you a widow."


	9. Chapter 9

**3 Months Later**

Cinnamon stood by her window gazing down at the sea. Moonbeams blushed the gentle tide, casting everything in its path silvery. She sighed. There was a time when she would have felt the sight enchanting, but not tonight. Her world had been completely turned upside down.

She heard the rampant echo of his pounding boots before he opened the door without knocking. She did not have to turn around. She knew exactly who the steps belonged to.

"Is it true?"

Changing her reflection from sorrow to strength, she turned and held Simcoe's glare. "It is obvious that you have just spoken with my grandfather. Major Hewlett is not known for deceit, so yes, every word of it is true."

Simcoe growled as he struck the wall, not flinching when his knuckles cracked on impact. He turned back to face her, leaving a splotch of blood on the white wall. "Your words, your tone, your brazen reflection; I see not a hint of remorse. You are a whore! A trader to the crown, yet you stand before me proud."

"Get out!"

Simcoe moved toward Cinnamon neglecting her order to leave. She lifted her chin, flaunting insolence, standing her ground.

"Did you like it? Did you like the feel of the rebel's cock inside you?"

Clenching her fingers to keep from striking his taunting face, she tried to sneak by him. "Let me go!" she hissed when he seized her arm.

In a low hissing voice, he slithered, "did Tallmadge make you cream, Cinnamon?"

"That is enough of your vulgarity! Now release me!" she demanded, struggling to free herself from his entrapment.

Twirling her to his chest, Simcoe backhanded her, catching her before she hit the floor, only to slap her a second time. She cried out, but knew help would not come. Her grandfather had left the premises, making it clear she was no longer a Hewlett.

Simcoe shoved Cinnamon to the bed. He tried to force her knees apart. She fought back like a little wildcat.

"It is my turn now!" Simcoe roared, prying her knees apart.

"You can rape me a dozen times, but you can never take what Ben already took!" She spat, flaying with her nails, blood seeping from her torn lips.

At her taunt, Simcoe's dark eyes grew murderous. He fell upon her in a rage, beating her cheeks from left to right. The echo of meaty blows mingled with her wails of agony. "Bitch, treasonous slut, treacherous cunt!" Simcoe cursed her with each assault.

Cinnamon's eyes rolled to the back of her head, her body limp. Blood drained a constant flow from her lips and nose. Listless, she watched half-lidded as her assailant hiked up her dress. Battered and weak, she laid beneath him, vulnerable, unable to stop his brutal hands. He crammed two fingers up her cunt, shoving deep. "I am going to fuck this pussy bloody and then afterwards, I shall bleed Tallmadge's memory from your womb!"

She shot up. WHAM! She shoved him backwards, causing him to crash into the floor. She scurried from the bed, trying to head for the exit. "Bitch!" He glowered, capturing her ankle. As he dragged her back to his rage, she managed to seize a fire poker and slash it upside his head. Simcoe hit the floor with a THUD.


	10. Chapter 10

The moon hung low tonight, casting a fairy mist upon the midnight forest. Ben was reclining outside his tent, enjoying the melody of nearby crickets summoning the rain.

"Do you miss her, Ben?" Caleb asked, chewing on a slither of long reed.

Ben knew exactly who Caleb was referring to. "Constantly…"

The men bolted to the echo of hoof echoing through the pines. Clutching their weapons, they watched as the horse revealed its rider; the silhouette of a female garbed in a white nightgown. Long wind-tossed hair clung to her shapely waist and breasts.

"Cinnamon!" Ben blurted, rushing to collect her from the horse. The closer he drew, he noticed blood stains surrounding her lush lips and bruises snuggling swollen eyes. Heart slamming into his chest, he knew he was the fault of her tortured appearance.

"Ben..." she uttered with tears in her voice.

She fainted from the horse into his strong arms. He carried her inside his tent and held her while Caleb saw to her injuries.

After some time, she woke and sat up. Caleb gave her some water and ducked outside, leaving them to privacy.

"I seek sanctuary," she started the conversation.

"You told Simcoe?" Ben asked a question he already knew the answer to.

"I did. It was the right thing to do."

"And he beat you for my touch?"

"He did. I barely escaped with my life."

Ben shook his head. "I raped you, Cinnamon. You did not deserve …"

"You did not rape me. I laid down for you. I wanted you to be my first."

Gripping her chin, "no, little one, I forced myself upon you in the most vile, vicious way a man could take a woman. I am shamed-wash. I can only beg for your forgiveness."

"I only ask that you protect me until our child is born."

"Child?" Ben broke into a half smile. Caressing her belly fondly, he beamed, "you carry?"

"Are you angry?"

"God no, Cinnamon! I am far from angry!"

"My family has disowned me. After I bear, I have friends in England.."

Ben cut her off, "you will take not our baby from these shores. Let me make this right, if you will have me."

"You want me? A British born loyalist?"

Ben smiled a tender smile meant to heal her pain and soothe her worries. "I want you. I've always wanted you and I want our baby. And I will make a Patriot out of you."

She smiled a faint smile.

"I will be gentle with you. The man before, his heart was shattered, but now you have mended it. I will be a good husband to you, love."

She closed her eyes as he caressed her lips with his own. He was in love with her and she felt it, but she also felt his anguish. He now more than ever wanted to kill Simcoe.

"Simcoe knew about the baby, didn't he?"

"He did," she replied.

She felt Ben stiffen, his fingers tightening into her flesh. Simcoe had murdered everyone he loved and now he sought to murder Ben's unborn child. There had to be reckoning and Cinnamon prayed it would end with Simcoe's death and not Ben's.

Notes:

Feedback is most appreciated as I am pondering writing another Ben fic and would like to know how many Ben fans are reading.


	11. Chapter 11

Cinnamon held her son up so that he could see the flying colors of red, white, and blue. She smiled. "Because of your father, and men like him, this flag can legally fly free. Free because we are free."

The toddler giggled, having no idea the importance of his mother's address. It was the colors that delighted him. She hugged her cooing son before releasing him to play in a bed of moss.

She watched Benny play and soon her smile faded. He was identical to Ben with shaggy blonde hair and enchanting eyes, and the sight pained her. She had not seen her husband in months. She did not know if he was dead or alive, only that the new country prevailed against her country. She suddenly winced. England was no longer her country. She was American.

She knew Ben had engaged in numerous battles against tyranny. She had read his regiment had been victorious, but that did not mean that he had survived and her fear was suffocating. She loved Ben more than the very air she breathed. He had thought him her demise, but to her, he was her savior.

He had sworn revenge against Rogers and Simcoe. The last she had heard Rogers had been snared by an American privateer and now dwelled in a New York prison. And rumor had it that Simcoe had fled to England, defeated, after the Siege of Yorktown. **  
**

A sound broke her thoughts and she glanced up into the smiling face of a beastly man. He was dressed like a scruffy privateer, an AMERICAN PRIVATEER, and wore a long beard.

"Cinnamon!"

"Caleb!" she squealed, rushing into his embrace. "Where is my husband? Have you seen him? Is he alright?"

"Slow down, Mrs. Tallmadge, and ask him yourself."

"What?" she choked, glancing wildly in all directions, until a gentle hand caressed her back. She turned, tears streaming and leaped into Ben's open arms. He kissed her until she lost her breath and then reached for his son in Caleb's arms. The family cuddled, emotions flowing. They had their freedom, faith, love, and now their family was finally together. And this was their happy ever after...this was what they had fought for...this was what so many had died for and their sacrifice would not be in vain.


End file.
